India. Culture. The World.

Georgia

It is in the bus to the Freedom Square that Tbilisi first gives us its glimpse. No 37 from the airport, coloured in a tinge of an orange that I have somehow only associated with the Eastern bloc. Last time I saw it, it was on the tram in Budapest. The bus is old, weary and worn off from the trips it has made through the airport and probably through the eras, a Soviet one, a post-Soviet one and a post-war one. Read More